If there was one person I could murder
it would be the bully
that lives in your head.
I would carve out the mocking voice
that says you are fat or old
or stupid or broken
or clumsy or worthless
and I would slit it’s throat
with a knife from my kitchen.
(I have dreamed of this when
slicing beef, this murder.)
I would make this voice face me to know
the fear it puts you through.
For as cruel and hard
as that inner voice is
I am far crueler.
I would scoop out the eyes of that bully
with my thumbs.
I would slice off your abusers tongue.
The claws of your stalker
that have sunk into your head?
I would sever them with glee.
Chop, chop, at the bone.
I would burn the body
to dust and dissolve the bones.
But I cannot cut out the voice
you war with.
I cannot save you.